


Made In Heaven for Earth

by childrenofthesun



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childrenofthesun/pseuds/childrenofthesun
Summary: Crowley returns home after submitting his latest report to Hell, eager to take a well-deserved nap.The only problem is that his bed already has someone in it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 245
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	Made In Heaven for Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/4446.html?thread=3277918#cmt3277918

Crowley pushed wearily into his flat, making a face as he miracled the stink of Hell from his corporation. Satan, but did he despise having to head Downstairs for quarterly reviews. They'd only been doing them for a half-century, now, but it was two too many already, in Crowley's opinion. They dragged on and on – there was a needless amount of paperwork riddled with catch-22 sub-forms, all the pens either leaked or barely had any ink. The chairs were wobbly-legged and far too small, leaving him precariously balanced and folded up at awkward angles. His knees still ached.

Still, it was done now, and it'd be two and a half decades before he'd have to suffer through another. He stalked over to his bedroom, looming threateningly at his plants as he went, fully intending to flop onto his bed and nap for at least a week.

The only problem with this plan was that his bed was already occupied.

By Aziraphale.

Who was wearing a pale _, very_ sheer, gossamer robe straight out of Crowley's guiltiest fantasies, no less.

"Hello," Aziraphale greeted him meekly, blushing.

"Hghn," Crowley replied, frozen in the doorway. He desperately wished he hadn't abandoned his sunglasses out on the hall table. "Why're you. What. What is happening."

The flush on Aziraphale's cheeks deepened, and he looked up at Crowley demurely from underneath his lashes.

"It's our wedding night."

Crowley nodded a few times, as if this was a perfectly reasonable explanation for Aziraphale being in Crowley's bed, baring more skin than Crowley had seen since public bathing fell out of favour. He pointedly didn't look at the cream-coloured underwear that was very much visible beneath Aziraphale's robe, delicate lace curling tastefully over soft hips. "Right," he said dazedly. "Sorry, did I miss... was there a wedding?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "No, hardly seems necessary, does it? Certainly more effort than it would have been worth. Imagine trying to fit twenty million angels and demons into a wedding venue, without anyone trying to kill each other, after all. Better to skip straight to consummation."

"That's very forward of you," Crowley managed to choke out, still reeling, voice quite a bit higher-pitched than usual. "Heaven suddenly decided to change their policy on demon-angel interpersonal relationships, have they?"

Aziraphale wasn't one to take things fast, but even without taking that into account, simply showing up in his bed and announcing that they were married was taking things at light speed. This couldn't be real, Crowley decided. Somebody Downstairs must have put some sort of contact hallucinogen on one of the pens he'd used when filling out those endless forms. There was no way the universe would gift him something like this.

He was a demon. Demons didn't just get the one thing they wanted most handed to them on a silver platter.

"Not so much Heaven as a whole, no," Aziraphale replied. His eyes shone as he said, "The decree that we should be wed came from God Herself."

Crowley felt a sudden chill overtake him, encasing him in ice. "…She what?"

"I'm as surprised as you are, really," Aziraphale told him, not seeming to notice the change in his demeanour. "She hasn't been speaking much to – well, to anyone, really, except perhaps the Metatron, given that he is the Mouth of God, and all, but I'm beginning to suspect She might not be answering even his calls–"

"So you're here on divine order," Crowley said dully. It had been stupid of him to hope, he knew that, but the knowledge of what a colossal idiot he had been, that he'd even entertained the thought that Aziraphale would have done something like this of his own volition, did nothing to lessen the blow.

A furrow pressed itself into Aziraphale's brow, the glow of his face dimming. "Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that," he protested.

Crowley raised both eyebrows at him. "How else would you put it? Hm? This _decree_ from God? No discussions, no ceremony, just, what, dropping you off in my bed, telling you to lie back and think of Heaven?"

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, gaze dropping. "I would have hoped that… that is to say, I rather thought you might want to lie with me as a husband might."

The sound that left Crowley wasn't something a mortal being could make.

Of course he wanted that. Aziraphale _knew_ he wanted that, the love he held for the angel was branded through every layer of his soul, how could he not know? Everything in Crowley ached for a world without Heaven and Hell looming over them, influencing their every action. A world where Aziraphale was in Crowley's bed, in _their_ bed, of his own volition. Where Aziraphale would greet him with welcoming arms and a smile because he wanted to, not because he'd been ordered to.

"No," he managed. He wasn't so utterly self-destructive that he couldn't see how taking what he wanted anyway would utterly ruin him. "No, I'm not going to do that."

"Would it really be so awful?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

Crowley stared at him, flabbergasted. Did the angel really value himself so little, that he would so meekly submit to being _manhandled_ like that, like a pawn on an ineffable chessboard?

He didn't allow himself to think too long on the answer. "Aziraphale, if only one of the people involved wants it, then it's _rape_."

"Oh," Aziraphale said, more an exhalation of air than actually speaking. "I… I hadn't realised you'd feel quite so strongly about it."

Crowley felt like his heart was being cracked open, misery flooding out through his body, bubbling beneath his skin. He let his words turn sharp, needing an outlet. "Why?" he snapped. "Because I'm a demon? Must just be a slave to lust, then, mustn't I, wouldn't actually matter to me who I was fucking."

"That isn't what I meant," Aziraphale whispered, tears shimmering along his pale lashes.

"Why don't you explain it, then, because that's what it's sounding like to me."

The tears in Aziraphale's eyes spilt over. "I love you," he managed, words tight and garbled, like they'd been squeezed from him.

Like he hadn't really wanted to say them at all.

A sharp pain lanced through Crowley's chest. "Don't," he rasped. "Don't you dare do this." Hearing those words was far too much for Crowley, not when the angel clearly didn't mean them. Not in the way Crowley wanted him to.

Aziraphale shrank inwards a little more, hugging the meagre cover of his robe tighter around himself. Crowley couldn't help but notice how nicely the folds of the delicate fabric clung to the curves of Aziraphale's body, and he forced himself to look away, sickened by his own reaction.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley bit off a choked laugh. "Why're you apologising? Of course you're apologising." He buried one hand in his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other, pacing agitatedly around the room. "What did I do to deserve this," he muttered, trying to ignore the way Aziraphale flinched in his periphery. "Falling wasn't enough, was it? Had to torment me by dangling him in front of me like this, did You?"

Aziraphale suddenly stood from the bed, fists balled tight, eyes wet and stormy. "Well, I _am_ sorry that the thought of spending intimate time together is so utterly repulsive to you," he snapped, voice wobbling. "If I'd known that you would consider such a thing to be torment, I never would have agreed to it."

Crowley went very still and didn't move for several seconds.

Aziraphale stood ramrod straight, lifting his chin. "Now, since my being here, like this, is so uncomfortable for you that you can't even bear looking at me, I'd very much appreciate it if you would stand aside, so that I can go home." His voice shook. "I need some time to work out how to politely tell God that Her gift was not well received."

Crowley stayed exactly where he was, opening and closing his mouth a few times like a particularly dense goldfish.

Tears threatened to fall from Aziraphale's eyes again. "I said move aside, Crowley!"

"You chose this?" Crowley asked quietly, fighting against the hope he could feel beginning to unfurl in his chest.

This didn't change anything. Aziraphale had obviously been given a choice between this, or Falling. Or possibly being destroyed outright. It didn't really count as him choosing Crowley, if the other option had been annihilation.

"Of course I chose this," Aziraphale told him, face twisted with anguish. "I all but leapt at the opportunity when it was presented to me. I love you, and I…" He faltered, throat bobbing painfully. "Well. I suppose I thought the feeling was mutual. I am sorry to have misjudged your feelings in the matter. Now, _please_ , let me go home."

If Crowley clutched at the doorframe much harder, he was going to leave a dent. He didn't care. He needed the support right now. "You're wrong," he whispered.

Aziraphale's eyes glittered. "Yes, thank you ever so much, you've made that abundantly clear," he replied thickly, folding his arms protectively around himself. "My affections have been obviously misplaced. Now, if you're _quite_ done belittling me for my foolishness, I would _really_ –"

"I love you."

Aziraphale took a step back, still hugging himself tight around the middle. "I… I don't understand. You were just saying…"

"I thought you were only here because God had ordered you to," Crowley said in a rush. "That you didn't actually choose this. That you would only ever choose this as a last resort. I didn't want to say yes to something you were only offering to me out of obligation." His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I could never take something like that from you if you didn't actually want me to."

He let go of the doorframe, hesitantly stepping closer to Aziraphale, trying to leave a wide enough berth that the angel could simply rush out of the room, if that was what he preferred.

Aziraphale remained exactly where he was.

"Why did She give you this choice?" Crowley asked. He needed to know, needed to dispel the doubts still clinging to him like tar, still insisting that he didn't deserve something like this without it being tainted. "What were your other options?"

A pink flush touched Aziraphale's cheeks and he looked away. "I'm not sure that I quite want to say _why_ , precisely, I was given the choice." His lip trembled. "The circumstances were... not pleasant. Suffice to say, She was of the opinion that the Archangels had been negligent enough in their duty of care to me, that they could no longer be trusted to act in my best interests. When She asked if there was anyone else I trusted to take care of me… of course I chose you."

Crowley came to a halt in front of him, hands drifting forward seemingly of their own accord to support Aziraphale under the elbows. Aziraphale gazed up at him. Tears still shimmered along his lashes, but his eyes shone with love, absolute and undeniable.

"Promise me that you really want this," Crowley murmured, throat tight, still needing the reassurance. "I'm begging you, all right? Don't do this if it's just as a last resort. Don't do this if you don't really want me."

"I've wanted you like this for millennia," Aziraphale told him, voice ringing with unwavering certainty, and leant up to kiss him.

"Angel," Crowley whispered, more a sigh than a word. Aziraphale's hands rose, one cradling Crowley's jawline, the other curling around his waist, drawing him in close. Crowley moved readily into the touch, marvelling in their proximity, the easy way with which Aziraphale swayed into him.

He felt the dampness of Aziraphale's tears on his cheeks, and moved his lips away from Aziraphale's, tasting salt as he kissed them away. Aziraphale held still in his arms, then tilted his face up towards Crowley's again once he'd finished. His lips parted, tongue barely peeking out to graze against Crowley's bottom lip, gently seeking permission. The last thing Crowley was going to do now was deny him, and he opened up to accept him, tasting salt and skin and something that was undefinably Aziraphale.

Aziraphale's hands settled on his waist, tugging him back towards the bed. The angel let himself fall gently back onto the mattress, robe billowing out around him. Crowley hovered above him, drinking in the sight of milky skin splayed out before him, near luminous against the dark lustre of his bedsheets.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Crowley managed, fingers trembling and uncertain, not quite daring to touch, still not quite believing he was permitted to. Aziraphale smiled softly and took his hand, pressing a kiss to the palm before guiding it down his neck, over the gentle swell of his collarbone, between the folds of his robe. Crowley still trembled slightly as he took over, fingers fumbling as he undid the sash of Aziraphale's robe. It fell open like an unwrapped gift, a flower blooming, and Crowley made a quiet sound in the back of his throat.

Aziraphale wanted this. Wanted _him_.

"How do you want me, angel?" he asked, hands reverent as they traced down over Aziraphale's thighs. "What do you want me to do? Anything you like."

Aziraphale's eyes were dark with arousal, mouth soft with affection. "I want you in _every_ way, my dear, and if I'm not being too bold, I do hope that you'll allow me the pleasure of trying, over time. To begin, however… I believe I'd most like it if you would take me." His gaze was steady and adoring. "I want to feel you inside me."  
  
"Ngk," Crowley replied, feeling his brain overload from the sensory input and dribble out his ears.

"That is, if you're amenable," Aziraphale added, eyes tightening a fraction at Crowley's garbled response.

Crowley managed to laugh, even if it was only at himself. "Don't you worry about that, angel, I'm just trying to make sure I don't shoot off in about three seconds flat, and end up disappointing you."  
  
Aziraphale's face cleared, smiling up at him fondly. "My darling boy, you could never disappoint me."

An involuntary smile curled at Crowley's own lips. "Not helping," he groused, leaning down to nuzzle at Aziraphale's throat, running teeth and tongue over the tendons there. A pulse fluttered against his lips, and Crowley groaned softly, delighting in the fact that Aziraphale's corporation operated on such a human level. His hands explored as he kissed at Aziraphale's neck, caressing every precious inch of skin bared to him, pushing further onto the bed and kicking off his shoes as he went. Aziraphale came alive under his touch, squirming and sighing, eyelashes fluttering, legs grazing against Crowley's. 

The robe slid down over his shoulders, and Crowley helped him ease it down further. Aziraphale slipped his arms free, then arched his back so that Crowley could pull it out from under him. Crowley was content to allow the fabric to pool on the bed next to them, but Aziraphale absently clicked his fingers, sending the robe to hang off a coat rack that hadn't been there a moment before.

"It's your turn, now, my darling. Let me see you."

Crowley felt his face go hot, colour spilling down his throat and vanishing under his collar. Aziraphale's eyes followed its path, and who was Crowley to deny Aziraphale the knowledge of where it ended? He shucked his jacket and waistcoat, sending them off to join Aziraphale's robe. Bolstered by Aziraphale's attentive gaze, Crowley's fingers curled around the hem of his shirt and peeled it upwards. He felt too self-conscious about it all – Aziraphale having been done up in his lovely robe and lingerie, Crowley in just his regular clothing – to actively try to make the motions alluring, but the way Aziraphale looked at him, as if he were ready to devour Crowley like a particularly scrumptious desert, made it clear that Aziraphale was very much allured, regardless.

Aziraphale licked his lips, hungrily eyeing the delicate flush of colour that crept down Crowley's chest. "Let me see all of you, Crowley," he murmured, reaching out and brushing his fingertips along the waistband of Crowley's jeans.

He'd never regretted wearing such obscenely tight trousers as much as he did in that moment, quite literally falling over himself as he struggled to squirm out of them. He didn't usually bother taking off clothes manually, but using a miracle to remove them now felt like cheating somehow.

With a badly smothered giggle, Aziraphale reached out to him again. "Perhaps I could help?" he offered.

Whilst normally, Crowley would have bristled at the implication he couldn't do something himself, the mental image of Aziraphale undressing him was far too tempting to pass up.

"Probably easier, yeah," Crowley agreed breathlessly, and Aziraphale rose up to meet him, kissing his lips, before trailing along the tide of colour washing down Crowley's throat to his chest. His fingers settled on the waistband of Crowley's jeans again, touch sure and steady as he helped Crowley wriggle his way to freedom.

Crowley's socks were caught up in the slide of denim, and he hadn't been wearing underwear to begin with. Quite suddenly, he found himself splayed out naked before the angel, pinned under his crystal clear gaze.

"Oh, you beautiful creature," Aziraphale murmured, expression full of wonder. Crowley felt the flush on his face deepen, no doubt clashing catastrophically with his hair.

"Takes one to know one," Crowley muttered childishly to deflect his bashfulness, mollified when Aziraphale let out a delighted giggle in response. A smile tugged at his own lips as he reached out, keen to have their respective states of undress in true equilibrium. He stroked the edge of the lace of Aziraphale's underwear, enjoying the contrast with the soft skin beneath, then gently eased them down. He relished in the give of Aziraphale's thighs, his calves, the feeling of the thick muscle hidden beneath. He had always known that Aziraphale was strong, even if he rarely showed it, and the fact that Aziraphale would so willingly surrender that strength to him was an intoxicating sensation.

Aziraphale's cock had already begun to fill, resting thick and lovely against one of his thighs. Crowley's mouth watered at the sight. "Can I?" he asked, briefly tearing his gaze away to meet Aziraphale's eyes.

Aziraphale chuckled. "Please do," he replied, and Crowley didn't need telling twice, fingers curling around the base as his tongue dragged a long line towards the tip. "Oh, _Crowley_ ," Aziraphale sighed at the touch, head tipping back against the pillows as Crowley sucked him into his mouth.

Crowley hummed, feeling Aziraphale hardening on his tongue. He coaxed Aziraphale gently to full flush, the angel moaning above him, pushing up onto his elbows to watch. Adoration filled his eyes as he gazed down at Crowley, lips parted in a sigh. Crowley smiled around him and sank back down, making Aziraphale's hands fist tightly in the sheets.

"You can grab hold of my hair," Crowley told him, coming up for air. "Can even give it a bit of a pull, if you'd like that." He flushed again as he admitted, "I know I would."

He busied himself taking Aziraphale's cock back into his mouth to keep from admitting anything else. Aziraphale's hands sank obediently into Crowley's hair, gripping it with the perfect amount of pressure, and Crowley moaned around his mouthful. He sank down to the root, Aziraphale's hold on him remaining steady – not pushing, not pulling, allowing Crowley to move at whatever pace he wished to set.

Crowley glanced up at Aziraphale from under his lashes, to find the angel watching him with rapt attention, like Crowley was the centre of his entire world. He felt himself be warmed all the way through at such devoted attentiveness, and maintained eye contact as he swallowed Aziraphale down once more, drinking in the angel's soft sounds of pleasure.

Aziraphale showered him with praise all the while, making Crowley's ears burn and his heart sing. He found himself delighting in reaching up with his hand to gently squeeze Aziraphale's balls, or unexpectedly taking Aziraphale all the way into his mouth, or pressing the tip of his tongue against the junction of Aziraphale's cock and balls. Each surprise motion made Aziraphale gasp breathlessly in the middle of whatever adoring sentence he was lavishing on Crowley, in turn making Crowley groan around him, a delicious feedback loop of pleasure and praise.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale moaned. "I'm not going to last much longer if you keep… If it's all right by you, I'd rather like to…"

His hands tightened in Crowley's hair and Crowley groaned happily in encouragement, eyelids fluttering when Aziraphale began thrusting up into his mouth with little jumps of his hips.

"You gorgeous thing, oh, my darling, my dear, oh, _oh–_!" Aziraphale flung his head back with a cry, thighs quaking, toes curling, and Crowley swallowed him down to the last drop. He pulled off just as Aziraphale began to tremble. The angel grabbed blindly for him, and Crowley moved easily up into his embrace, mouths crashing together with more enthusiasm than grace.

"I'm sorry," Crowley murmured once they broke apart for air.

Aziraphale's brow furrowed. "Whatever for? I can assure you, I most thoroughly enjoyed that."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed," Crowley commented with a slight grin. "I meant that I got a bit carried away. You said you wanted me inside you."

The confusion on Aziraphale's face cleared. "Is that all? I'd just assumed you were working your way up to that part."

Crowley chuckled. "Figures that you're just as insatiable in bed as with a dessert menu."

Aziraphale gave a happy little wiggle beneath him. "Well, it _is_ our wedding night," he pointed out.

A warm glow suffused Crowley's chest, so pervasive that he wouldn't have been surprised to find it was visible on the outside, too. "You good to keep going, then?"

"Oh, absolutely," Aziraphale enthused, mouth falling open in a perfect 'o' when Crowley stroked a miracle-slick finger in a slow circle around his rim before pushing in.

"There you are, angel," he murmured, gently pulsing his finger in and out, Aziraphale's body gripping greedily at him. "That's what you want, isn't it, anything you want…"

"More," Aziraphale begged. "Please, Crowley, more."

Crowley was helpless to do anything but obey, easing in a second finger alongside the first. Aziraphale accepted the intrusion beautifully, sighing in contentment as Crowley slowly stretched him open enough to add a third.

"Crowley, I'm ready," he told him, reaching out. "Please, let me have all of you."

He withdrew his fingers, making Aziraphale squirm a little at the loss. With one miracle, Crowley slicked his cock; with another, he cleaned his hands of any stickiness, then tucked them under the bends of Aziraphale's knees, tilting back the angel's hips so that he could line up and sink in with a single, smooth motion.

They both groaned in unison, Crowley falling forward as Aziraphale reached up for a kiss. Their lips met, breath hot on each other's tongues, hands grabbing at shoulders in an attempt to draw themselves further into each other.

"'Ziraphale," Crowley whispered. "I fucking love you."

Aziraphale smiled blissfully up at him. "The feeling is most assuredly mutual," he said, eliciting a fond snort from Crowley.

"Couldn't put it more simply, could you," he said breathlessly, still powerless to resist when Aziraphale's lips sought out his own.

"You don't know how long I've wished for this," Aziraphale murmured, dappling kisses onto his face and neck like sunshine through leaves.

Crowley huffed out a breathless chuckle as he tipped his head back to give Aziraphale better access. "Might have a bit of an idea," he replied.

A misty look entered Aziraphale's eyes. "We've both had to wait for so long."  
  
Crowley brushed a thumb over Aziraphale's cheek, gently cradling his jaw. "Waiting's over now. We can take all the time we need with this."

So saying, he began to slowly rock his hips into Aziraphale. At the peak of every thrust, Aziraphale's eyelashes would flutter, and Crowley was careful to ensure that he filled Aziraphale completely, that no part of him was left feeling empty. Aziraphale's own cock still lay soft against his stomach, a dreamy expression on his face as Crowley moved steadily into him.

Aziraphale's hands moved up to caress Crowley's sides, reverence evident in the featherlight drag of his fingers over Crowley's skin. A shiver trembled through the whole of Crowley's body, the simple, adoring touch lighting him up from within, brighter than any star he'd ever created.

"Crowley," Aziraphale sighed. "Kiss me."

And Crowley went, like the tide to the moon, all the love within him swelling and surging as their lips met once more. Aziraphale's arms circled around his back, steadfast and strong, an anchor for Crowley's restless heart.

He held Aziraphale just as close, gently rocking into him, making the angel groan headily against his tongue.

For the first time in more than six millennia, Crowley felt truly at home.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

He wasn't sure how long had passed – if the time was better measured in hours or days – given that neither fatigue nor chafing were an issue for them. The metrics that held far more interest to him were how loud he could make Aziraphale moan, how many times Aziraphale blissfully called out his name, how many breathless, panting kisses Aziraphale pressed against his throat and his lips.

"Angel," Crowley whispered. "My angel."

"Yes, yes, Crowley, I'm yours, always, _always_ ," Aziraphale babbled, clutching him closer.

Crowley felt himself spiralling toward the point of no return, the warm, accepting give of Aziraphale's body inexorable. He pulled back, drawing Aziraphale up with him. Aziraphale readily moved with him, settling himself in Crowley's lap, kissing him deeply as the demon caressed his thighs, his backside, flesh pliant under his touch. "So beautiful," Crowley murmured against his lips, fingers circling around Aziraphale's cock, full and hard once more. "Just look at you, so gorgeous for me, almost there, angel, almost there, that's it, come on–"

Aziraphale came with a shout and a flurry of white feathers, wings springing from his back as he fairly glowed with ecstasy. Crowley wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything as beautiful as Aziraphale, so overflowing with love and pleasure and joy.

Heaven could keep Crowley's grace, he decided. He had all the glory he needed right here, on Earth.

Crowley couldn't help but bury his fingers in the soft scapular feathers at the base of Aziraphale's wings, making the angel let out a soft groan of appreciation. That was all it took to send Crowley tumbling off the edge as well, his own wings bursting forth in a show of solidarity, black mingling with white. He buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck and shook himself apart, clinging to the angel, unsure he'd ever be able to bring himself to let go.

He did let go eventually, of course, gently easing himself out of Aziraphale before snapping his fingers to miracle them both clean. Aziraphale beamed at him, curls in disarray, cheeks flushed, blue eyes dancing with joy and a deep, deep love.

"My own God-given angel," Crowley murmured, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.

Perhaps sensing he was about to have some mortifying reaction, Aziraphale nestled in closer once more, cupping Crowley's cheek. "I know I don't have quite the best record with guardianship," he admitted, "But I do swear to you, I will do my utmost to protect you."

"Not sure I deserve all that," Crowley managed. ""M just a demon."

"I'll have you know, I don't appreciate you speaking about my husband in such a manner," Aziraphale said lightly. "I would kindly ask that you refrain from unjustly accusing his deservedness in future."

A broad, wonderous smile pulled at Crowley's lips of its own volition. "I'm your husband," he said, as if the fact was only just hitting him now.

"I'm afraid so," Aziraphale replied solemnly, then broke out with his own delighted grin.

"You say that like you're not the one that's stuck with me," Crowley told him. His cheeks were starting to hurt, but he didn't care. He wouldn't have stopped smiling even if he could.

"There isn't anyone in the world I'd rather be stuck with," Aziraphale promised, and leant in to kiss him again.


End file.
